I find myself shaking my head at yet another failed recipe today. There were TWO.
I was awoken by the sounding of my phone, indicating a school closure for the day. My mind wanders to the daily “get-tos” instead of “to-dos.” I GET to wake up slowly, roll over and breathe in my husband. I GET to inform my daughter that today we can stay in our pajamas extra long. I GET to try new recipes today, dabbling at my leisure.
That’s the one that got me.
I burnt the marsh-mellows for my rice crispy squares, which led to rock-hard bricks rather than sweet, gooey treats. My husband replies, “I will still eat them. Don’t throw them away.” He is an incredible man and I do not deserve him.
Then, I decide that home-made bread would surely redeem me. How can I mess up throwing ingredients together in a bread-maker and pressing the green “start” button. Alas, this is not fool proof. You have to use BREAD FLOUR, not regular floor. Hello.
As I gaze down, shaking my head, studying my dense, unappealing, nearly uneatable failure, my husband wraps his arms around me and suggests, “I could use that to feed the birds.”